Utterly Unexpected
by Jeanie205
Summary: The last person Clarke expects to join her in working at Jaha Advertising is her teenage "crush from afar" Bellamy Blake. When they're teamed up, she knows she'll have to be professional and ignore her attraction to him. That works just fine for several years as they become good friends, until one Christmas when something unexpected happens.


It was strange, really, how Bellamy Blake had blown back into her life.

Clarke would have thought it the most unlikely thing ever. That is, if she'd thought much about Bellamy at all.

They were both from Arkville, of course. And there'd been a time when Clarke might have had the teeniest tiniest crush on the handsome but dangerous-looking guy ringing up her purchases at the convenience store. Or tuning up her car at the auto shop. Or checking out her library books. In fact, Bellamy had turned up at so many different locations in those early days back in Arkville that she'd occasionally wondered if he'd somehow managed to clone himself.

But that had been _years_ ago, and the last time Clarke had actually seen Bellamy had been at high school graduation. Hers, not his, because he was several years older, but his sister was in her class. Not that she'd really known Octavia Blake at all, but she remembered catching a glimpse of the two of them laughing and hugging at the edge of the field where the ceremony had been held.

It may have fleetingly crossed her mind that day that there was no one with them who looked like they might have been a parent, but if so, that had been the very last time she'd given a single thought to Bellamy Blake.

So it was quite a surprise when he turned up years later at Jaha Advertising.

By the time they met again, Clarke herself had barely been working there for three months. While she was certain that she'd only gotten the job because the Jahas were old family friends, she was still grateful for the opportunity. Because... as it turned out... she loved it. Showcasing products, new and old, taking the words and ideas of others and turning them into something visually exciting, was far more rewarding than she ever would have thought.

She understood that in the greater scheme of things her job wasn't _important._ She wasn't saving lives, for instance, like her mother the doctor. Or educating the masses like her step-father, Marcus Kane, who taught at the local community college.

But Clarke had never aspired to importance _,_ and figured she'd leave saving the world to someone else. What she _had_ been looking for was a job that challenged her creativity. That made her look forward to going to work each day. That was _fun_.

Three months in, she had yet to team up with any of the wordsmiths on a regular basis, though, and was still just helping out wherever she was needed. So when she heard that they'd taken on a new guy, she couldn't help hoping that maybe this was the one she'd click with.

Of course, never in a million years had she thought the 'new guy' would turn out to be her teenage crush from Arkville.

In fact, when the boss introduced them, and she noted the shortish haircut and conservative business suit, for a fleeting moment she thought this might be an altogether _different_ guy. But then he smiled, and her heart did the same crazy thumping thing it always had, and she knew that this was her Bellamy Blake after all.

He squinted at her as they shook hands, his massive paw enveloping her much smaller hand.

"You look... familiar. Wait! Clarke Griffin? Are you from Arkville?"

When she nodded and returned his smile, Bellamy shook his head, as though in disbelief.

"Was it the library or the car place?" he asked, all the while still holding onto her hand.

"Both. And I bought lottery tickets from you at the 7-11."

"Yeah, I had a lot of jobs back then," he chuckled, finally letting go of her hand. "But... I seem to remember a little kid with lots of blond curls." He cocked a brow at her sleek appearance.

Clarke rolled her eyes, recalling her teenage self with a mixture of affection and chagrin. The full face and round cheeks she'd despaired of ever shedding until that one miraculous day in her early twenties when she'd woken to find she'd suddenly acquired cheekbones.

"And I seem to remember a lot more hair," she teased. "Not to mention a leather jacket."

Bellamy's smile grew wider. "I guess maybe we've both changed a little."

"Grown up," she agreed, nodding. "Probably about time."

They continued to stare at one another, taking in these new adult personas, until a soft clearing of the throat reminded Clarke that her boss was still hovering only inches away.

"Clarke's going to be doing the artwork for the flavored water campaign, Bellamy," Jaha said, informing them both at once. "I had a feeling you two might work well together."

"Great!" Their responses were nearly simultaneous, already displaying a synchronicity that would only intensify over time.

As Clarke showed Bellamy around, she felt her excitement growing, although whether at the prospect of finally becoming part of an official team, or the fact that her teammate was Bellamy Blake, she wasn't altogether sure. When he smiled at her as they were having coffee in the break room later that afternoon, and her heart responded with that increasingly familiar thump, she began to think her attraction to him might be the beginning of a problem.

Apparently, Jaha felt the same way.

He called her into his office late in the day, waving her into the seat across from him with a friendly smile.

"Is everything okay?" she asked hesitantly. Being called to the boss's office without a prior agenda was a first for Clarke.

"Of course," Jaha said. "I just wondered how you and Bellamy were getting along, since you'll be sharing an office for some time."

"Fine," she said, her enthusiasm dampened somewhat by not knowing exactly where the conversation was heading.

"Good. I had you in mind when I hired him, because I thought you'd balance each other well. But I didn't know you were old friends."

"Hardly," Clarke smiled. "His younger sister was in my class at school but I didn't really know Bellamy."

Ever forthright, she couldn't help adding, "Is that a problem? That we grew up in the same town?"

"Of course not," Jaha assured her.

But then he paused, and it was clear he had something else to say, and was weighing his words.

"I can't tell you how to conduct your private life," he said finally, "but I have learned over the years that it's usually better not to confuse it with your work life. Don't get me wrong. It's helpful if your colleagues are also your friends, but it's easier to maintain... professionalism if they're nothing more."

As he said this, the smile never left Jaha's face. And while he knew - and _she_ certainly knew - that he had no control over her personal life, it was also clear to Clarke that at Jaha Advertising, inter-office romances were not exactly welcomed.

"I hope I'm always a professional," Clarke said mildly, wondering what he'd observed in the five minutes he'd spent with them that he would think it necessary to make such a remark.

As she was leaving for the day, Clarke noticed Bellamy rapping on Jaha's door, and if she'd been a betting woman, she'd have wagered a year's salary that the newest employee was about to get the same speech.

"See you tomorrow," she called out with a little wave. "I think we're going to make a great team."

She was right. From that day forward, although they never talked about it, she knew they were both on the same page. First of all, they would never, ever become personally involved. And second, they would do their utmost to become the most successful advertising team possible.

And it happened just like that. That instantaneous initial _connection_ quickly evolved into the kind of teamwork rarely seen in a working relationship. Or, indeed, in life.

 _A perfect symbiosis._

He would no sooner utter a few words - expressing the merest whiff of an idea - than she would be sketching, having caught exactly what was inside his fertile brain.

"Is this what you were thinking?" she'd ask.

Then he'd inspect her hastily-scratched offering, and suddenly that kernel of an idea would blossom and grow, until they were both excitedly writing and drawing, the ideas and visions emerging so fast and furious that they hardly had time to commit them to paper - or screen.

All their hard work bore fruit. Over the next few years, Bellamy and Clarke worked their way through increasingly important advertising campaigns until they were considered the top duo at Jaha Advertising.

And through it all, never once was anything said or done between them that couldn't have been overheard by Jaha, or Harper, or Jasper, or anyone else who worked there. They never became lovers, or dated, or exchanged so much as a kiss.

But nothing could have stopped them from forging the most powerful friendship in the universe.

XXXXXXXXXX

It might not have been quite so easy for Clarke to squelch her longstanding attraction to Bellamy Blake if she hadn't, that very same week, met a smooth-talking charmer named Finn Collins. Finn was just the distraction she needed to render her immune to Bellamy's smiles, and to focus instead on his way with words.

Clarke noted that on his part, Bellamy seemed to have no trouble finding any number of women to divert him from any attraction to her grown-up self that she may have thought she observed at their first meeting. Although, as they worked together on one successful project after another, and moved from work colleagues into friendship, she did occasionally wonder if Bellamy was ever going to become serious about any of his conquests.

There seemed to be a parade of them, and none of them ever lasted more than a few months. First there was Roma, then Bree, and then one whose name she barely remembered. But what she did recall was that when the woman joined them for drinks one evening after work, she looked at Bellamy less like a boyfriend and more like a tasty snack she anticipated consuming later that evening.

That one's tenure was the shortest of all.

From the smug self-satisfaction of her nearly yearlong relationship with Finn, Clarke labeled these women as shallow, and Bellamy's (always brief) connection with them as superficial.

"Come on, Clarke," he protested, when she rolled her eyes at yet one more breakup story, "not everyone can be lucky enough to meet the, uh, _perfect_ person."

Of course, that statement was accompanied by a smirk so heavy she thought it might break Bellamy's face. And she was once again reminded that Bellamy had little liking for her boyfriend. That even after all these months, he was sure that Finn was eventually going to hurt her.

He'd stopped saying so out loud because they worked together so closely that neither wanted personal discord to mar their relationship. He even paid lip service to the conventional wisdom that it was none of his business. But Clarke knew him well enough to know that deep down Bellamy was sure he had a right to his opinion.

Of course, like the good friend he'd become, he was nothing but sympathetic when he was eventually proven right.

"What kind of an asshole has a secret engagement while dating another woman for almost a year?" Bellamy fumed, after Clarke discovered Finn's perfidy.

"The kind who wants to have his cake and eat it, too," she said stoically, the tears having finally dried up. "You'll understand when Raven gets here."

Finn's fiancee was meeting them at their favorite bar to return a few items that Clarke had left in Finn's apartment.

"I'm sorry," Raven said when she arrived. "I can't believe he guilted me into being the one to return this stuff to you. And just so you know, I broke up with him, so if you, uh, wanted to, uh, call him..."

"Yeah, _no_ ," Clarke said vehemently, appalled at the very idea. "Pretty sure I know when to cut my losses."

"Right." Raven nodded. And then when she didn't leave that very instant, Bellamy invited her to join them for a drink.

She shrugged, "Why not?"

After several hours, and a like number of drinks, Clarke and Raven discovered they had a lot more in common than just Finn Collins, and a new friendship was born.

As they made plans for a future get-together, a slightly drunk Bellamy remarked that it kind of reminded him of _The Godfather._

"What does?" Clarke sputtered. Bellamy's movie references often flew over her head. Especially when she was right on the edge of an epic intoxication.

"You know... _leave the gun, bring the cannoli."_

Raven's laugh was uproarious.

"I get it! _Leave the fucking asshole, bring the cool girl!"_

When Bellamy grinned, Clarke smiled, happy for the translation. "Exactly!"

She sometimes wondered if, under other circumstances, Bellamy might not have tried to date Raven himself. But as it happened, he'd recently met a girl named Gina, whom Clarke liked a lot. She even thought Gina might turn into an actual girlfriend.

So he wasn't available.

And, if Clarke was being completely honest with herself, she was just as happy about that. She wasn't sure why, but somehow the idea of Bellamy dating Raven - or any of her friends - made her... uncomfortable.

She was right about Gina. She lasted much longer than any of the others. But when even they eventually broke up, Bellamy wouldn't give her a straight answer as to why.

"Work," he said vaguely.

Clarke supposed she could understand that. They sometimes worked long hours or had to do a lot of traveling, especially when they were deep into an ad campaign. On the other hand, Jaha gave them liberal time off when they weren't busy, so that kind of made up for it.

"I'm really sorry," she said sincerely, because she hated to see her best friend unhappy. And then wondered if this was really a good time after all to tell him how excited she was about this new girl she'd met. Lexa.

XXXXXXXXXX

Clarke remained at Jaha Advertising, despite the other opportunities that started to come her way after her star began to rise.

At first, those opportunities never came to anything because Jaha seemed to have a sixth sense about that sort of thing. No sooner would she get a call from a head hunter or a rival advertising firm, gently feeling her out about a possible job change, than Jaha would call her into his office to tell her he was raising her salary, or giving her a bonus, or increasing her time off. Or offering some other inducements that she'd neither requested nor expected.

She _and_ Bellamy, of course. They'd made it clear right from the beginning that they were a team and should be compensated equally.

And that, of course, was the other thing.

She'd never taken it for granted, that connection that she and Bellamy had. Their understanding of each other was somehow so innate that while she worked hard, and the hours were often long, it never felt tedious. Instead, it was exciting and fun and creatively rewarding.

So it wasn't long at all before Clarke reached the point where she just couldn't imagine working with anyone _except_ Bellamy.

Because with him as her partner, it always, _always_ , felt like this was exactly what she was supposed to be doing. And exactly who she was supposed to be doing it with.

She was pretty sure Bellamy felt the same.

Clarke and Bellamy had been happily - and productively - working together at Jaha Advertising for four years when they became neighbors.

She bought her place first. When Clarke and Lexa finally broke up after nearly a year together, she'd kicked herself for letting the relationship linger for as long as it had. And knew in her gut that at least some of her foot-dragging had been about having to find a new place to live.

"Dammit, Bellamy," she said, complaining loudly about having to couch-surf at Raven's while she searched for new digs. "I'm too old to be stuck in a relationship because I have nowhere else to live. That's never happening to me again because I'm getting my own place!"

"Yeah?" Bellamy shrugged. "Isn't it a hassle?"

Clarke knew he had never lived in anything but a rental, not even as a kid.

"Maybe," she admitted. "But at least it'll be _my_ hassle."

She finally settled on a two-bedroom condo in a large complex, mostly because it was convenient to work. All her friends helped her move in, including Bellamy. When she noticed him looking around, she could swear she saw the wheels turning inside his head.

But all he said was, "Nice place."

Still, she wasn't surprised that a few months later, when his lease was up, he told her he'd decided to take the plunge into homeownership himself.

"Hey, good for you. You should look into places in my complex. It's so close, it's really great for nights like this when we have to work late."

It was nearly 11:00, but they were still at the office, still racing around trying to finish a last-minute "improvement" that had popped into Bellamy's head that day for a presentation due the next morning.

After a few seconds, it dawned on Clarke that he hadn't responded, and she looked up from her sketching with a frown. To find him staring at her with an unreadable expression.

"Bellamy?"

"Yeah?" he said finally, as though shaking himself from a stupor. "One of the places near you? You wouldn't mind? I mean, we see a lot of each other as it is."

His unexpected question brought her up short.

"Of course not," she said firmly, but for some strange reason, some reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, her mouth was suddenly dry as dust. "You're my best friend. And besides," she added with a nonchalant shrug, "that place is huge. Like its own little town. We'd probably never even run into each other."

"Right," he nodded, his lips twisting into a crooked smile. "Course, we might bump into each other at the gym or something."

"We might," she acknowledged with a grin, "but I think I could chance it."

By the next day, he was touring the available units, and three days later he'd put in an offer. Within a matter of weeks, _she_ was helping _him_ move in.

And almost as though his offhand words had brought the idea to life, the very first Saturday they weren't at the office, they did, in fact, run into each other at the gym. Got to talking about their next project as they worked out. Decided to get lunch at the farmers' market. Spent the afternoon shopping (as well as brainstorming) at a nearby flea market. Took in an early movie and ended the day with a pizza from the Italian place they'd often had meals delivered from when they worked late, but had never actually had the opportunity to visit.

They parted ways in the complex courtyard, but not without some protest from Bellamy.

"I'll be fine going the rest of the way by myself, Bellamy," she finally told him, laughing. "It's not like this was a first date and you're looking for the big payoff on my doorstep."

"Course not," he agreed, his eyes quickly flicking away. As though he were embarrassed. "Just text me when you're in. See you Monday."

And he was off before she could say even one more word.

By ten, Clarke was home, tucked in bed, trying really hard to convince herself that she hadn't just had one of her best days... ever. Trying even harder to pretend her body wasn't abuzz with a vague sense of anticipation. Of expectation.

So when Monday came and Bellamy told her about Echo, the really cool girl he'd met Sunday night, she told herself she wasn't really disappointed. Only maybe a little... surprised.

But then again, Clarke understood how things were. How they'd always been.

How they had to be.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bellamy and Echo quickly became a couple, but somehow or other Clarke wasn't quite as comfortable with Bellamy's new relationship as she had been with others in the past.

She told herself it must be because she was single at the moment (not that she'd really been looking) and was envious that he had someone to cuddle up with and she didn't. Or maybe there was some - _very tiny_ \- sense of disappointment because she knew she probably wouldn't get another all-day hangout with Bellamy while he had a girlfriend.

Still, she was determined to fix the situation.

But after yet another evening with their friend group where she tried unsuccessfully to warm up to Echo, Clarke decided to talk it over with Raven at one of their occasional one-on-one Sunday brunches.

"You're actually wondering why you don't like Echo?" Raven asked, her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

"Well, yeah," Clarke said, frowning. "I mean, I know she's not exactly warm and fuzzy, but she is Bellamy's girlfriend, so..."

"Yeah," Raven interrupted. "She _is_ Bellamy's girlfriend."

Then her brows rose and she cocked her head, as though she were waiting for Clarke to get the point.

Clarke frowned. "Bellamy's had plenty of girlfriends," she insisted. "Most of them were... okay. And I loved Gina. She was great."

"Gina _was_ great," Raven agreed, nodding, "but that was almost three years ago, Clarke. This is _today_."

She paused, her voice softening.

"I mean, when was the last time you considered being with someone yourself?"

Clarke felt herself unexpectedly bristling. "There was Niylah Merchant a couple months ago. She was fun."

"Clarke." Raven's voice became even softer. And expressed more exasperation. "You know you were never going to be serious about Niylah. I think you need to ask yourself why."

But that wasn't the kind of question Clarke was looking to answer.

"Do you want more coffee?" she asked Raven, signaling the waiter. "Or are you ready to head to the mall?"

Raven sighed and shook her head. "Mall it is."

In the end, Clarke decided she'd just have to wait it out. Bellamy's girlfriends never held that position for very long. Maybe... she'd like the next one better.

But then a couple of months later, in the spring, Echo moved into Bellamy's condo.

"Her lease was up," he told Clarke with a shrug while they were taking a break at work. "So we just figured..."

She was perplexed. "And that's why she moved in? Because her lease was up?"

Clarke thought her questions were reasonable, but maybe there was something in her tone. Or her expression. Something, she insisted to herself, that she certainly hadn't intended.

Because Bellamy's shoulders tightened and his face closed. And when he responded, his words were defensive.

"Do you have some problem with this, Clarke? Because I wouldn't have thought it was any of your business."

Clarke was appalled. They were nearly quarreling, and they _never_ quarreled. _What the hell was wrong with her?_

"No, of course not, Bellamy," she said hastily. "I just... I mean..." She stopped. "You're right. It's none of my business."

"I'm sorry," he said, sighing, in a sudden about-face. "I shouldn't have jumped all over you."

"No, it's fine," she insisted.

And so it was. Mostly.

Echo moved in, and Bellamy was available even less for group outings or the occasional after-work drink. But then again, they were both so busy at the office that it hardly mattered.

Clarke couldn't remember enjoying her work more than she did that summer.

They'd finally talked Jaha into letting them take on a nonprofit client at a reduced rate. In this case, the local art museum, which was trying desperately to boost its image and prestige. It was a project that was near and dear to both Clarke and Bellamy, and throughout the warm summer months the two of them threw themselves into the campaign tirelessly, working even longer hours than usual.

But it was summertime, and even with the extra hours they usually managed to get home while it was still light outside. Clarke was sure that was the main reason why the long work days seemed more like pleasure, and less like a burden.

At the end of the summer, the museum held a grand reopening, where the rebranding was declared a rousing success. Clarke and Bellamy were naturally invited to the festivities and when Bellamy told her he was bringing Echo, Clarke began dreaming up conversational gambits, convinced that _this_ would be the occasion where she and Echo would finally become friends.

She needn't have bothered.

Echo barely looked at her, and uttered only one-word responses to Clarke's friendly - and carefully-phrased - questions. Until finally, in exasperation, she gave up.

Late in the evening, Clarke and Bellamy were pulled aside for congratulatory conversations with potential new clients. One, who owned a chain of boutique bakeries, was particularly grating.

"So, are you two a team in, uh, other ways?" he asked them, practically leering. "I mean, all that hotness in one room must be hard to contain."

This wasn't the first time the two of them had had to deal with that type of comment. In the early days, Clarke would just roll her eyes and later fume that _just because we're a guy and a girl why do people always make those assumptions._ While Bellamy would smirk and tell her she should be flattered.

Nevertheless, he was the one who usually found the quick and clever response to turn the conversation in another direction.

Somehow, over the years, it had gotten harder for Clarke to deal with this kind of crap, especially when the commenter was as in-your-face as this asshole.

Still, the guy was a potential client, so she did her best to mask her annoyance and glanced over at Bellamy, expecting him to respond with one of his snappy comebacks. Just like always. Instead, for a moment his face simply went blank, and then he told Mr. Obnoxious Baker that it had never been a problem.

Clarke felt unaccountably annoyed all over again.

They eventually managed to get rid of the baker, but by the time they returned to the spot where Echo had been standing earlier, she was gone.

Bellamy sighed when he checked his texts and found that Echo had called an Uber to take her home.

"She was getting pissed," he told Clarke. "I kept having to take off and leave her."

Clarke frowned. "Didn't she understand you were working, Bellamy?"

He shrugged, eyeing Clarke carefully. "If I'd told her that, she'd probably have been even more bent out of shape."

Clarke shook her head, failing to understand Echo. Deciding maybe she never would.

After the massive effort to finish the museum project, they both had some time off, and Clarke hadn't expected to see Bellamy for at least a week. So when he appeared on her doorstep the following Saturday, she was both surprised and perplexed. He never just... showed up. In fact, this was the first time he'd been to her place since she'd hosted a group event right after Echo moved in.

But as always, Clarke was happy to see him.

"Bellamy! What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, giving her his crooked smile. "Thought if you weren't busy maybe we could bat some ideas around for the perfume campaign."

"Uh, sure! If you want. But I thought we were doing that on Monday. And won't Echo be expecting..."

"Look, if this is really a bad time, it can wait..."

"Course not! Come on in. Why don't you go out on the patio? I'll get us some drinks."

She was still rummaging around her refrigerator when the bell rang again. When she opened the door this time it was to find Echo standing there.

And Echo wasted no time on greetings.

"Is he here? Bellamy's here, isn't he?" Her expression was even fiercer than usual.

Clarke's mouth opened but only a squeak came out. She was flummoxed. Surely Echo knew Bellamy was at her place. If, on the other hand, he _hadn't_ told her, why would Echo assume it? Bellamy hadn't crossed Clarke's threshold in months.

"I'm here, Echo." Bellamy spoke up from behind her, having made his way inside from the patio. "But why are you?"

"To bring you this," she said, marching past Clarke to slap something into Bellamy's palm.

He sighed. "You could have just left the key. No need to bring Clarke into our personal business."

"Well, that's a laugh. Or it would be if I felt like laughing," Echo said, turning back toward the door. "He's all yours," she added as she passed Clarke.

The door banged shut, leaving Clarke with her mouth hanging open. She turned to find Bellamy side-eyeing her warily, looking as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him.

"We broke up," he said by way of explanation.

"But..."

"I really don't want to talk about it, Clarke."

"Okay," she nodded, unwilling to make him any unhappier than he already looked.

Clarke was surprised and a little confused, and certainly sad to see Bellamy looking so troubled. But she also admitted, if only to herself, that there was a tiny sliver inside her that was happy Echo was gone.

She knew she should be ashamed to think that way, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

XXXXXXXXXX

That autumn, they worked as hard as ever on the _C'est_ _toi_ perfume campaign, but for Clarke, something seemed just a little off.

At first, she thought it might be the product. Because while they'd huckstered items as diverse as hot dogs and Hyundais, this was their first foray into the realm of beauty products. And she really wanted to make sure they did a bang-up job.

"What does it mean?" Bellamy asked the very first day. " _C'est toi?"_

"It's you," she said, shrugging, as she looked over some preliminary sketches. "Like maybe... this is the fragrance that makes you... you. Or else... this is the scent that fits you. Something like that. I mean, who the hell knows?"

"Or maybe," he offered, as though he'd just then thought of it, "it means... you're the one."

"That, too," she agreed, looking up suddenly to catch his eyes on her, only to have him quickly turn away.

"I guess it doesn't matter," he said. "We could probably use any of those ideas as long as the client likes it."

So she'd thought they were off to a promising start, no more chaotic than usual. But as the weeks wore on, although she knew he was working hard, it almost seemed like Bellamy had lost a little of his mojo.

Clarke finally decided that he must be more upset over the breakup with Echo than she ever would have expected. And she felt guiltier than ever for being happy about it.

When she couldn't stand the guilt any longer, she confided to Raven, pulling her into the bedroom for a quick word one night when the whole gang had gathered at Clarke's place to watch some classic 80s romcoms.

"Something's wrong with Bellamy," she said, barely clearing the doorway before spilling her worries to Raven. "I don't know... it almost seems like..." Clarke sighed, "I think he might be pining."

"I think you're right," Raven agreed immediately. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Clarke blinked. "Do about it? Well, there's not much I _can_ do, is there? Except give Bellamy enough space to get over the breakup."

Raven sighed and her lips tugged up in a small, wry smile.

"Look," she said, the words coming slowly, as though she were choosing them with care, "why don't you try giving Bellamy _less_ space. Maybe what he needs instead is some distraction. You're his best friend, so maybe you should be the one to, uh, distract him."

"You think?" Clarke was a little doubtful. She hadn't wanted to intrude on his sadness. On the other hand, if Raven was right... Indeed, she'd very much missed their occasional lunches and after-work drinks. She told herself she'd just have to make absolutely sure it was about what Bellamy needed - and not about Clarke herself wanting to spend time in his company.

She shrugged. "I'll give it a shot. It's not like it would be a chore."

"I'm sure it won't be," Raven nodded, brow cocked. "Not at all."

Whether it was the return to the lunches and drinks - or just the passage of a little more time - Bellamy did seem to perk up after that, and the _C'est toi_ campaign began to move forward at a breakneck pace.

The client had wanted to see the finished product just after the first of the year, and knowing how there were always last-minute changes, Bellamy and Clarke had anticipated not being able to get away for the holidays that year.

But as it turned out, they were wrong.

Just after noon on December 23rd, they presented their completed campaign to a delighted Thelonious Jaha.

"It's your best work yet," he told them, rubbing his hands together with glee. "So besides a good-sized bonus, you've just earned yourselves a vacation. I don't want to see you two back here until the meeting with the client on January 2nd."

Clarke whooped excitedly, and Bellamy laughed as he followed her back to their office.

"All this over a few days off?"

"I hated the idea of missing Christmas in Arkville, but now I can make it. We both can," she reminded him.

Bellamy shook his head. "Yeah, but we're never gonna find a flight at this late date."

"Never say never," she said, opening her laptop determinedly. "There'll be something."

After nearly an hour of searching, the "something" turned out to be two first-class seats that suddenly became available after Clarke had refreshed the screen for the twentieth time.

"Look, Bellamy! There must have been a cancellation! I'm grabbing these before anyone else sees them." Clarke's sense of excitement was building. _She was going to make it home for Christmas after all!_

"First-class, Clarke? Really?"

Clarke groaned. "You just got a big bonus, Bellamy. You can afford it. I'll put your ticket on my card and you can pay me later."

Maybe her excitement was contagious, because soon Bellamy was smiling and talking about how much fun it was going to be to surprise his sister.

"O didn't say much when I told her I wasn't going to make it this Christmas but I know she was disappointed."

The flight was a red-eye, leaving after midnight and scheduled to land in Arkville in the early morning, so they really needed to step on it. In fact, between packing, last-minute shopping, and arranging transportation to the airport, they were so pressed for time they never let anyone know they were coming until they were actually en route.

Clarke was settled next to Bellamy, curled up asleep in her relatively luxurious first-class seat, when she was startled awake by a groan and a soft, frustrated _son of a bitch._

"Wha-what's the matter, Bellamy?" she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

Bellamy only shook his head, finally huffing out a small bark of laughter.

"Guess I'm the one who's surprised. Octavia's not there."

"Not there, as in...?"

"As in, since she was sure I couldn't make it home for Christmas, she and Lincoln decided at the last minute to fly to the west coast to visit his family. As in, I have no place to go when we get to Arkville. As in," he sighed, "I'll have to find a flight back as soon as we get in."

"Don't be stupid," Clarke said immediately. "You'll just come home with me."

" _What?_ "

Clarke couldn't understand why Bellamy seemed so surprised. Had he really thought she'd let him spend Christmas alone?

"I said, you can stay at Mom's. No problem." She couldn't help smiling at his startled look.

"But... I don't want to impose. I mean, it's not like..."

When he stopped dead, she prompted him. "Not like what?"

But Bellamy had shifted in his seat and was looking out the small airplane window. "Nothing," he muttered, before sighing and turning back to her with a question. "Are you sure your mom won't mind?"

"Course not," she assured him, elbowing him in the ribs. "She liked you a lot that time when she visited and we went out to eat. She always asks about you. Besides, Mom's always loved to be around my friends." She laughed. "Says it gives her new insights into me."

Bellamy smiled. "Maybe _I'll_ get some new insights into you, being around you and your mom."

Clarke rolled her eyes, smiling. "So... you'll stay?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "Why not?"

Clarke sent another quick text to her mom. One Abby probably wouldn't see until she woke up in a few hours.

 _Forgot to mention that I'm bringing home company for Christmas._

XXXXXXXXXX

As Clarke had expected, Abby was more than delighted to welcome Bellamy.

"We're a little full up right at the moment, since Marcus's mother Vera is staying in the guest room for the holidays. And we turned the fourth bedroom into Marcus's office. But the couch in there is pretty comfortable." She smiled. "We got it especially for those nights when he's working late and doesn't have the energy to actually make it down the hall to bed."

Abby paused uncertainly then, as though a new thought had just struck her.

"Unless... that is... the two of you..." She waggled her finger back and forth between them. "Because Clarke has a really nice queen-sized..."

" _No!_ "

" _Mom, no!"_

The responses were simultaneous, and Abby's brows rose a bit at their vehemence.

"Sorry," she said, shrugging, glancing apologetically at a mortified Clarke. "You never said."

"You know what Bellamy and I are, Mom. We're partners."

But somehow, at that moment, Clarke couldn't seem to make herself look at Bellamy. And when she did manage to peek at him out of the corner of her eyes, she saw that his face was turned away and his ears were slightly pink. She sighed inwardly, trying hard not to get annoyed with her mother for embarrassing her best friend.

"Come on," she said, leading him toward the bedroom wing. "I think we probably could use some sleep."

When Clarke emerged from her nap several hours later, she found Bellamy in the kitchen with her mother and Vera Kane, making cookies. She was relieved to see that any earlier awkwardness appeared to have been swept away.

"Your partner has hidden culinary talents, Clarke," Abby said with a smile. "Pretty sure he's the only one of us here who really knows what he's doing."

"Mom," Clarke couldn't help her grin. "You're a great mother, but cookie-baking has never really been your thing. What about you, Vera?" she asked, greeting Marcus's mother with a quick hug. "Were you a baking kind of mom?"

"Not really, dear. And maybe now that I have more time, it would be a good time to learn. But for today, Bellamy seems to know what he's doing. He's kept us from burning the whole lot of them, which, if I recall, is what happened last year."

When Bellamy turned and caught Clarke's eye, his whole face was lit with amusement. He looked... impossibly happy. For as long and as well as she'd known him, she couldn't recall ever seeing that look on his face before.

As he continued to hold her gaze, a sudden intense awareness of all things _Bellamy_ threw Clarke's senses into overdrive. She couldn't seem look away. Indeed, she was having a hard time breathing.

Then he blinked, and just as suddenly his head shifted and his eyes snapped away from her, releasing her from whatever spell she'd been under. Clarke took a deep breath, trying hard to hide her extraordinary reaction.

"I was always trying to make Christmas a little more fun for my kid sister Octavia," Bellamy had begun to explain. "One of the things we did together was make cookies. Of course she never let me get away with making the same kind twice," he laughed. "Every year it had to be new recipes. She's not a kid anymore but I still remember how to make the cookies."

Hearing his story, Clarke cautioned herself sternly that the way he'd looked, the expression on his face, had just been Bellamy reminiscing about his childhood. That the glorious smile had had nothing at all to do with Clarke. Then she reminded herself that that was how it had always been.

 _So why did she feel so stupidly disappointed?_

An hour later, when the cookie supply was finally declared ample, Clarke and Bellamy were shooed out of the kitchen by the others.

"We _are_ capable of cooking dinner," Vera assured them. "I'm sure you two can find something more interesting to do."

"Actually..." Abby paused, "if you don't have anything in particular in mind, I could really use some help with a few, uh, last-minute errands."

Clarke snorted. "Right, Mom. You just don't want to brave the stores on Christmas Eve, so you're sending me instead."

Abby laughed. "You got me. But it would be a big help."

Clarke grabbed the car keys from their customary hook and gave Bellamy a resigned look.

"I'll come with you," he said. "I may have a few last minute errands myself."

As they drove through the early twilight, Clarke couldn't help but admire how the town had decked itself out for the holidays. Just like always.

"Arkville never seems to change," Bellamy remarked, as though he'd somehow known exactly what she was thinking. "Not that I made it to this part of town very often when I was a kid," he said, huffing out a laugh, as they arrived at the lavish display of lights that told them they'd reached the entrance to the upscale mall. "The neighborhood dollar store was more like it."

Bellamy rarely shared stories about his childhood, but she'd always known he hadn't had all those jobs for no reason. And as much as she'd have loved to hear more, when he offered nothing further, it would have seemed like prying to ask, so Clarke let the subject drop.

"When was the last time you were here?" she asked instead, turning into one of the few available parking spots.

"Couple days at the end of the summer, when we got that time off after the museum. Octavia had been bugging me about visiting and I lucked into a cheap last-minute ticket. _Not_ first-class," he teased, grinning, as they exited the car.

Clarke laughed. "Yeah? Well, it wasn't Christmas, was it?" she reminded him as they headed towards the main entrance.

Still, she wondered why he hadn't told her about that trip to Arkville. Not that Bellamy Blake had to report every detail of his life to her. It was just that... he so very often did.

Then she remembered that right after that he'd broken up with Echo. Or she with him. Clarke hadn't been sure, and Bellamy had never explained. But she supposed it was reason enough that he might forget to mention his quick visit to his hometown.

When they entered the mall, Clarke recalled that one of Abby's errands had been a gift for Bellamy, and she wondered how to casually suggest that they split up for a while. But she needn't have worried.

"Why don't we divide Abby's errand list?" he said. "That way we can finish quicker and get the hell out of here."

"Good idea," she agreed eagerly, tearing the sheet in half and handing him the piece that did not contain the notation 'tie for Bellamy'.

Clarke had tried to persuade her mother that as a last-minute guest Bellamy wouldn't expect a gift, but Abby had just pooh-poohed that idea.

"Nonsense! No one comes to my house at Christmas and gets no gift. I'm sure you'll know exactly what to buy."

And the strange thing was that she had. The tie might have been her mother's idea, but Clarke was so familiar with Bellamy's work wardrobe that she knew exactly what style and color would fit into it.

It was while she was fingering the grey-and-red-striped silk that she just _knew_ would go perfectly with his charcoal suit that she came to the realization that it wasn't just about his clothes. There might be some gaps in what she knew of his childhood, and she certainly wasn't privy to the details of his romances, but in all other respects the here-and-now Bellamy, her best friend in the universe, was an open book. At least to her.

As she shopped, Clarke's mind continued to turn over the sudden sharp realization that she knew Bellamy far better than she'd ever known any of her romantic partners. Even the ones who'd been long-term. And that it was very likely the same for him.

They'd never talked about it, of course. She supposed it was unlikely that they ever would.

XXXXXXXXXX

Christmas Eve dinner was just like the past five Christmas Eve dinners, save for the fact that Bellamy was there. And he just made the whole meal a lot better. She'd always known Bellamy was funny, and charming, and... _interesting,_ but it was fascinating to see her family come to appreciate the man she spent so much of her time with.

As for Bellamy, he seemed to blossom under the warmth of their interest. Vera especially was able to draw out of him stories from his early years that Clarke had never heard before.

She couldn't recall ever seeing him smile so much. And they were genuine smiles, because who would know the difference, if not Clarke? She was happy to think that he was enjoying himself.

"So, Bellamy," she said off-handedly, as they worked their way through the bakery pies, "don't you think we should open the gifts tonight?"

Bellamy frowned, peering at her questioningly, but when he suddenly smirked, she understood he'd caught on.

"I don't know, Clarke," he said firmly. "Is there a family protocol?"

"There is," Abby assured him, looking faintly put-upon. "The presents are opened on Christmas _Day_. But every year Clarke tries her best to get hers early."

"It's true," Marcus Kane assured him. "Every year Clarke tries to wheedle her presents out of us on Christmas Eve, but so far we've managed to stand firm."

"For shame, dear," Vera chimed in. "Trying to embroil poor Bellamy in your plots."

When Clarke giggled, Bellamy grinned delightedly. "I always knew you were wily, Clarke, but don't you think getting grabby about the Christmas gifts is a little over the top?"

By then they were all laughing. Clarke was startled when her laugh morphed into a yawn.

"And you're obviously too tired tonight, anyway," Abby smiled, closing the discussion. "I guess you'll have to wait until tomorrow. As usual."

It had, Clarke realized, been an exceedingly long day. After making sure that Bellamy had everything he needed, she collapsed into her own bed and was asleep in seconds.

XXXXXXXXXX

Clarke had always loved her family's relaxed approach to Christmas Day. They didn't bother making a formal meal, instead nibbling on sandwiches and cookies. Or leftovers. This year was no exception, and they spent the morning chatting or reading. She and Bellamy eventually ended up talking shop, until her mother declared that they were 'out of order'.

"For heaven's sake, Clarke. It's Christmas. I think you two can forget about work for one day."

"Well, then, I need distraction," Clarke countered, grinning. "It must be time to open the presents."

"She made it all the way to noon this year, Abby," Marcus noted. "I think that might be a record."

Clarke rolled her eyes, while Bellamy plunked himself beside her on the couch.

"I suppose I should have known you were a gift hog," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Only child. Indulgent parents. Stands to reason."

"Shut up," she huffed quietly, poking him in the ribs. "I suppose you never got excited about Christmas presents."

"I did," he nodded, shrugging, "but mostly about the ones I was giving."

 _Why was she not even a little surprised?_

Abby's tie was a hit. Bellamy thanked her graciously, but when his eyes twinkled at her, Clarke knew he realized she'd picked it out. As the gifting continued, she learned that in the short time they'd been at the mall Bellamy had done some shopping of his own.

Vera let out a bark of laughter when she opened his gift to find a cookbook entitled _The Complete Guide to Never-Fail Cookies._

"This looks like a challenge, Bellamy," she told him with a smile. "Which I accept."

Marcus liked his book on the history of Arkville equally as well, and Clarke could tell he was just itching to crack it open. Abby _did_ immediately crack open her gift, a bottle of her favorite wine that Clarke knew must have been a suggestion from Marcus.

Bellamy's gifts were so thoughtful that she began to happily anticipate her own. Not that the two of them had ever gone overboard at Christmas. But somehow this year had felt... a little different. Even before they'd ended up spending the holiday together.

So when he placed the long, slender, colorfully-wrapped package on her lap, she felt the tiniest uptick in her heart rate.

But when she opened it, it was nothing like she might have expected. Not that it wasn't beautiful, because it was. And according to the box, the hand-painted silk scarf, in rich tones of blue and green, had come from _Vermillion_ , the poshest gift shop in the mall.

Clarke had a sudden memory of Bellamy tossing a _Vermillion_ bag into the trunk the previous afternoon. Did that mean he hadn't bought her Christmas gift until... Christmas Eve? What should she make of that?

It was only when Bellamy rushed into an explanation that Clarke realized she'd been silent too long. And that some of what was going through her head must have shown in her face.

"I thought it would look nice with that blue dress you sometimes wear to presentations," he said, his face anxious.

Clarke was dismayed, kicking herself for letting him think for even one tiny moment that she hadn't liked his gift. His perfectly _appropriate_ gift.A gift between two people who worked together closely, respected each other greatly, and were the best of friends.

 _And nothing more._

"The scarf will be beautiful with that dress, Bellamy," she said, and meant it. "Thank you. I love it."

A little later, when the time came for him to open her gift, she almost wished she'd chosen something else. But she soon changed her mind.

"How the hell did you find this?" he asked, looking at her in wonder as he gently lifted it from its wrappings.

"I have my sources," she said, grinning slyly, inordinately pleased by his reaction.

What she didn't tell him was that she'd spent more than three months searching for the rare 19th century book on puns that wordsmith Bellamy had read about somewhere and coveted desperately. Even though it was a century out of print and he knew he'd probably never be able to find a copy.

Clarke had looked on locating that book as a kind of mission. Bellamy wanted it and she was damn well going to get it for him. It took months of following blind leads and obscure trails, of suffering through multiple dead ends, before she finally found a copy in a London shop that specialized in rare books.

After that, there had been the communication with the bookseller, and arranging for payment and shipping. It had been a long ordeal, but she'd been so happy with the outcome. And was even more so when she noted the pleasure on Bellamy's face as he leafed through the book gingerly, gently stroking the stiff leather binding.

"You know I love a challenge," she told him, trying to make light of the effort she'd put into his gift.

Especially considering that he'd bought her a scarf on Christmas Eve.

(A very beautiful scarf, she reminded herself sternly more than once.)

The rest of the day passed quickly, with chitchat and nibbling and naps. They even managed to polish off Abby's Christmas wine. The whole day was a pleasant blur, each of them doing their own thing, just like always. But somehow, when she looked up from her book to find Marcus and Bellamy engaged in a friendly game of chess, she couldn't help thinking that this had been one of the nicest Christmases in years.

Late in the evening, when they all finally took themselves off to bed, Clarke felt way too keyed up for sleep. She decided to indulge instead in a guilty Christmas pleasure left over from her childhood.

She was sitting up in her bed, laptop propped on her knees, when she heard a rap on her door.

"I'm still up, come on in," she called out, pressing the pause button.

But when the door opened, it wasn't, as she'd expected, her mother come to say goodnight. Instead it was Bellamy, dressed in ratty pajama pants and a Word-a-Day t-shirt, his glasses perched crookedly atop his nose.

"Clarke," his voice came out scratchy but determined, and he cleared his throat as he stepped into her room. "About the scarf."

She sighed. All day long she'd managed to keep him from reopening that subject, and all that effort should not be wasted.

"The scarf is beautiful, Bellamy. Perfect. In fact, I'll probably wear it next week for the perfume presentation. I'm sorry if you thought I didn't like it."

"N-no, it's not that, it's just..."

"No need to say more," she interrupted firmly. "Really."

"Okay," he said uncertainly, and then his eyes narrowed as he finally focused in on her computer. "I hope you're not working. I think we can afford to take a couple more days off."

"Oh," Clarke laughed shortly, "no. I'm watching, um, _White Christmas._ "

" _Watching_ _White Christmas_?" His brow wrinkled in confusion. "I thought that was a song."

Clarke gaped at him. "Have you never seen _White Christmas_? Bing Crosby? Rosemary Clooney? The old guy is losing his shirt because there's no snow?"

When he shook his head, looking bewildered, the words tumbled out of her before she could think better of them.

"Why don't you come watch it with me?" She patted the bed beside her. "Plenty of room."

Bellamy blinked, looking surprised. "Um... are you sure?"

But once she'd made the suggestion, Clarke was determined to follow through. Dammit! They were best friends, weren't they? Friends did stuff like that.

She shrugged. "What's the big deal? We've watched dozens of movies together."

"Well, yeah," he nodded, "but, uh, never in your bed."

Clarke smirked. "I think I can manage to control myself."

He snorted softly, but in the dim light she could have sworn she saw him flush. But then he shrugged, and the crooked smile came into view as he crossed the room and slid onto the bed beside her.

"So this is a can't-miss classic, huh?" he said, amused, straightening his glasses and shifting on the bed until he was close enough to Clarke to comfortably see the monitor.

"Absolutely. It's the cheesiest Christmas movie ever. But I've always loved it."

"Okay. Bring me up to speed."

"Oh. Well, you've missed the fake war, but that's only the beginning..."

"Fake war?"

"Well, no, it's a _real_ war, but just... it's not very convincing onscreen."

"And this is your favorite Christmas movie?" he teased, sliding just a little closer.

"Shut up. It's great," she insisted, and gave him a short summary of the early scenes.

Clarke had watched the movie perhaps a dozen times, but as the minutes ticked by, she found that this viewing was altogether different. With Bellamy's heavy body warming the space beside her, and his commentary steady in her ear as he picked apart every cheesy trope that had endeared the film to her since childhood, she felt utterly content.

He began to yawn before the movie was even half over, and although she laughed at him, called him an old man, and gently prodded him, Bellamy had fallen asleep by the time Bing Crosby began to 'count his blessings'.

Clarke supposed the right thing to do would have been to wake him. Suggest he take himself back to the guest-couch. Definitely get him out of her bed.

But she did none of those things. What she did instead was to gently remove his glasses, placing them on the bedside table, and switch off the lamp. The movie was still flickering on the monitor but Clarke had lost her ability to focus on it.

Instead, her eyes drifted away from the computer screen and she turned to watch Bellamy sleep, giving in after a while to the strong urge to reach out and touch his disordered curls. She found them silky-soft.

Clarke closed her eyes as she allowed herself a few more strokes through his hair, and then she sighed, pulling her hand away from Bellamy to close her computer, forgoing altogether the last few scenes of _White Christmas._

The ones where the girl and the guy finally get together.

She scooted down, laying her head on the pillow, and in the dark quiet of her childhood bedroom, with her best friend asleep on the bed beside her, she finally confronted the terrible reality of her situation. The sad truth she'd be trying to avoid admitting to herself all day long.

That she'd somehow gone and fallen in love with Bellamy Blake.

It was the _one thing_ she wasn't supposed to do. The _one thing_ she'd been absolutely certain she would _never_ do.

And what made her feel the stupidest of all was that she had no idea when it had happened or how long she'd been lying to herself. She knew only that it was true, and that it was real.

And that it was hopeless.

Because honestly, how much clearer could it be that Bellamy - while he liked her, respected her, maybe even esteemed her - didn't feel the same way? Clarke figured she didn't need a roadmap to get the point. She'd spent three months searching out his perfect Christmas present; he'd left the purchase of hers until the day before.

That pretty much said it all.

She rolled onto her back, sighing. It wasn't his fault, of course. Bellamy had never been anything but great to her. He was the best partner she could have asked for and she couldn't imagine working without him. She shifted against the pillow, telling herself sternly that that was worth a whole lot and she was just going to have to be content with it.

Minutes later, she was back on her side facing Bellamy, having resolved that if this was the only time she'd ever get to have him sleeping next to her, she was damn well going to make the most of it. Clarke moved as close to him as she dared, trying hard to keep her eyes open so she could watch his chest rise and fall. And feel his breath as he softly exhaled across her cheek.

Eventually, of course, her eyes fluttered shut and she slept.

Hours later, Clarke awoke with a start into the grayness of the early morning light.

But Bellamy was already gone.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was mid-morning by the time Clarke entered the kitchen, dressed for the day in a pair of old jeans and a comfortable sweater.

She and Bellamy had made plans to hit the antiques shops later. They'd always been good places to find unusual props that might lead to those rare original ideas that were pure gold in the advertising industry.

She found her mother alone, drinking coffee and reading the news online.

"Morning, Clarke," Abby smiled, raising her cup, "want some coffee?"

Clarke nodded, serving herself from the large pot and settling onto the next stool.

"So... Bellamy not up yet?" Abby asked.

Clarke shrugged, "Guess not. I haven't seen him."

Abby's mug hit the counter with a definite clunk, and she indulged in a slightly exasperated sigh.

"I don't know why you insist on playing this game, Clarke," she said mildly. "It's really not like you at all. You've always been so upfront about everything."

"Game?" Clarke was truly mystified.

"Yes. Pretending that you and Bellamy aren't together. Aren't... sleeping together. Look, before you say anything, I know it's none of my business, but it just seems a little silly for you to try to hide what's so obvious, when you know damn well I wouldn't care. In fact... I really like Bellamy. We all do."

Clarke's jaw dropped. _What the hell?_

"We aren't sleeping together, Mom," she assured her, her voice tight. "We've never been like that."

"Clarke! I was up early. I saw him leaving your room just as it was getting light. What I don't understand is why you'd want to hide it."

"Mom! That was just... we were watching a movie together and Bellamy fell asleep in my room. And... I didn't want to wake him."

Why the fuck did her mother have to to bring this up _today_?

Abby shook her head in obvious disbelief. "Come on, Clarke. Anyone can see that the two of you are together, even if I hadn't seen him with my own eyes..."

"But we aren't!" Clarke cried, jumping off her stool. Wondering how much more she could stand of this painful conversation. "We aren't sleeping together. Or together in any other way. You _know_ what we are Mom. We're partners! Best friends! That's all it's ever been and all it ever will be!"

Clarke paused, her chest heaving with emotion, while her mother gaped at her. In the momentary silence that followed, there might have come the soft _snick_ of a door closing somewhere in the house, but if so, she was much too upset to notice it.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Mom," she said finally, her voice cracking slightly as she made the effort to pull herself together. "But please don't bring it up again."

"No, Clarke" Abby said gently, her tone contrite. " _I'm_ the one who's sorry, I should never have mentioned it. Look, why don't I make you some breakfast?"

"No, thanks." Clarke's stomach was churning and she couldn't imagine trying to eat. "I'm just gonna drink my coffee and wait for Bellamy to show up so we can hit the antiques shops."

Clarke downed two cups as she concentrated on regaining her equanimity before Bellamy arrived. By then a half hour had passed with no sign of him, and she was just thinking about waking him herself when he finally put in an appearance. Wearing his heavy jacket and pulling his suitcase behind him.

"Bellamy... what's going on? Why are you packed?"

"Yeah, so I, uh, decided to fly back today," he said, his eyes darting around her but never seeming to actually focus _on_ her.

"But... what about the antiques stores?" she asked inanely.

When what she really wanted to say was _What the hell is going on?_ _Did you feel me watching you sleep? Have I embarrassed you into leaving? Have I totally screwed up our friendship?_

"I think you can probably handle that on your own," he told her, shrugging, as he fiddled with his suitcase.

"Abby," he said, giving Clarke's mother a quiet smile, "thanks so much for taking me in."

"Don't be silly," Abby said, looking a little puzzled. "Can't I get you some breakfast before you go?"

"No, thanks. The only flight I could get today leaves in a couple hours, so if you can just give me the number for the cab company." He pulled out his phone.

"I'll take you," Clarke said quickly. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

Bellamy shrugged again. "I didn't want to put you out."

"Put me out?" Clarke was beginning to feel like she'd woken up in an alternate universe. "Bellamy, what the hell is going on?"

"Nothing. I just decided I needed to get back a little earlier. Uh, things to do."

"Things...?"

"And I didn't want to wear out my welcome."

Clarke saw Abby open her mouth, no doubt to assure Bellamy of his continuing welcome, but before she could utter a word he spoke hurriedly to Clarke.

"We really need to leave right now. I don't want to miss my flight."

"No, of course not." Clarke's voice was surprisingly calm, considering all the emotions threatening to swamp her. She quickly grabbed Abby's keys from their usual hook. "Let's go."

Bellamy tossed his case into the back seat, and after a few twists and turns through the city streets they were soon barreling down the highway. Clarke figured it was a good thing she was so familiar with the route to the airport, because it was only kinetic memory that was going to get them there. It felt like her brain had been effectively short-circuited by Bellamy's sudden bizarre departure.

Keeping one eye on the road ahead, she glanced furtively at her passenger, trying to figure out his motives, or at least gauge his mood. But he kept his own eyes firmly fixed on the side window, and never once looked her way. And every conversational gambit she tried was answered with barely one word. Or even, perhaps, a grunt.

Clarke was becoming more and more frantic, as she tried desperately to understand why her best friend in the world was suddenly treating her like a leper, and her mother's home like an internment camp from which he had to escape. She simply couldn't make any sense of it.

By the time they reached the airport access road, she was no wiser than when they'd left.

"No need to park," Bellamy said, his sudden burst of speech startling her. "You can just drop me off at the terminal."

"Okay," she agreed dispiritedly, bypassing the parking lot entrances and continuing on toward the terminal building. She pulled to a stop in the drop-off lane.

As Bellamy reached for the door handle, Clarke made one more try.

"Are you honestly not going to tell me the real reason you're leaving like this, Bellamy?"

Clarke could hear the plaintiveness in her voice, but she'd couldn't seem to control it. And really didn't care to try.

Bellamy sighed, turning towards her with a shrug.

"I'd think you'd be glad to have me out of your hair for a few days."

Out of her _hair?_ What the...?

Then he frowned and heaved a sigh, as though coming to a decision, and Clarke thought that at last she might get an explanation. But she could never have anticipated what he said next.

"Look, Clarke, I was going to wait until we were back at work to tell you this - after the perfume presentation, in fact - but I figure you might as well know now." Bellamy paused, then pressed his lips into a flat, determined, line. "I got an offer from Roan Winters and Associates awhile back and... I've decided to take it."

For an instant, Clarke's mind went utterly blank.

Then, "You're... leaving me?" she said finally, the words coming out faint and disbelieving.

"I'm leaving the _firm_ , Clarke. And... you don't need me. You can work with anyone."

"But what about... I thought we were friends, Bellamy." Her mind was whirling as she struggled to process how much her life had just changed in the mere blink of an eye.

When his face closed up, it was all Clarke could do not to let the tears flow. How could he do this to her? To _them_?

"We'll still be friends," he said after a moment, his voice devoid of emotion. "I never said we wouldn't."

"Except that Roan Winters is in Chicago," she reminded him hotly. "And I'm not."

Bellamy gazed out the front windshield, and for a few moments they were both silent. She saw his jaw clench, and then he sighed and said, "Look, Clarke, I really have to go now."

Clarke nodded, not trusting herself to speak, as he got out and opened the back door, grabbing for his suitcase. She watched as he pulled up the handle and clicked it into place, steeling herself for the moment he'd walk away from her.

And then suddenly his head and shoulders were back inside the car, and he was reaching into his jacket pocket.

"Here," he said, dropping something onto the seat beside her. "This was your real Christmas present. I guess you might just as well have it."

With one last look, Bellamy closed the door firmly and began to move quickly toward the terminal entrance, pulling his case behind him. She watched until he had disappeared into the building.

Still stunned, Clarke cast a confused look at the small, elegantly-wrapped box that he'd carelessly tossed onto the passenger seat. She reached out with hesitant fingers but then a horn honked loudly, reminding her she was blocking the drop-off lane. Snatching her hand back, she shifted into gear to begin the return trip to her mother's house.

XXXXXXXXXX

The shiny foil wrapping felt cool and slippery beneath Clarke's fingers as she turned the small box over and over in her hands. The one that contained her _real_ Christmas present.

On her return from the airport she'd been momentarily surprised to find the house empty, until she remembered that her mother and Marcus had taken Vera to brunch. But it had been a relief to have the place to herself, with no one around to ask awkward questions about Bellamy's sudden departure.

She'd slipped through the silent house and into her room, and had been hiding there ever since. Torn between a desperate need to learn what was in the box Bellamy had tossed at her so casually and her terror at letting herself in for further disappointment.

And then there was the fact that the box might very well be her last link to Bellamy. Once it was opened, and its contents known, there would be nothing left to wonder about. Nothing left to hope for. Nothing left to connect them. Nothing left at all.

Clarke held out for a couple of hours, her need and her terror at war with one another, until at last, between one moment and the next, the _not_ _knowing_ became suddenly too much to bear.

She snatched off the bow and ripped apart the shiny paper, tearing it from the box with trembling fingers.

 _Goldstein Brothers_. That's what was written in ornate gold script across the lid of the glossy black box. The name had a familiar ring, but she quickly shunted that thought aside in light of her pressing need to discover the box's contents.

Clarke lifted off the lid with shaking hands, sucking in her breath when she saw the delicate silver chain nestled inside. Suspended from the chain was a small charm, roughly one-inch square, fashioned in the shape of an artist's palette. Spaced evenly along the curved edge of the charm, like the dabs of color she used on her own palette when she actually found the time to paint, were five stones of various hues: red, green, blue, white, and a lovely yellow-gold.

She carefully drew the piece from the surrounding square of cotton batting, letting the chain fall to its full length. The silver glimmered and the tiny stones glittered in the pale winter light that streamed in through her window.

Clarke stared at it, mesmerized. It was beautiful and original and she fell in love with it instantly.

Holding it in still-shaking hands, she studied the clasp, aching to fasten it around her neck and see how it looked against her skin. The sweater she was wearing was too bulky, though, and she knew that nothing else she'd brought with her would work either.

She dashed along the hallway to Abby's room, rifling through her mother's closet until she finally found a thin, black V-neck sweater in the softest cashmere. She quickly threw off her heavy sweater and slipped on the black cashmere, then fastened the chain around her neck at the perfect length so that the palette charm nestled just above the generous valley between her breasts.

Clarke checked herself out in the mirror, finding the necklace exquisite. It was by far the loveliest piece of jewelry she'd ever owned.

She stared at herself for several long minutes, feeling more confused than ever.

When she heard the others returning, she ran out to the living room to make sure her mother wouldn't mind lending her the sweater.

"Of course not, Clarke," Abby assured her. "Was there some special reason you needed it?"

"I was just looking for something I could wear with this necklace" she said, self-consciously fingering the chain around her neck.

"That's lovely," Abby peered at her neck curiously. "I don't think I've ever seen it before."

"No, well, uh, Bellamy just gave it to me at the airport. He said..." she shrugged, "he said it was my real Christmas present."

When Clarke saw the looks Abby and Vera exchanged, she was certain that Bellamy's abrupt departure had been a topic of conversation at brunch.

"May I have a closer look at it, dear?" Vera asked politely.

When Clarke nodded, Vera fingered the palette charm for a moment and then asked Clarke where the piece had come from.

"Let me get the box," she said, racing to her room and returning a few seconds later with the glossy black cardboard box with the gold lettering.

"' _Goldstein Brothers_ '," Vera read. "Well of course, that's right here in Arkville."

The shop was in _Arkville_.No wonder the name had sounded familiar.

"Or at least, it was," Vera added.

" _Was_?"

"Yes. After fifty plus years, they went out of business this past fall."

"So Bellamy couldn't have bought this a few days ago," Clarke said, thinking aloud.

"Certainly not." Vera shook her head.

"Do you know the last time Bellamy was here in Arkville?" Abby asked. "Before this week, I mean?"

Clarke nodded. "He came to see Octavia at the end of August."

"Well, then," Abby shrugged, "I'd say that's when he bought it."

"And... one more thing, Clarke," Vera said hesitantly. "About those stones."

"Pretty, aren't they?" Clarke smiled, reaching up to finger the pendant.

"I'm quite sure they're more than pretty. I've known Jacob Goldstein for years and I can tell you that he never in his life handled anything that could remotely be described as _costume jewelry."_

" _What?"_

Vera sighed. "Those stones are real, my dear. I'd say that what you have there are five small gemstones. A ruby, an emerald, a diamond, a sapphire, and, I believe, a topaz."

"Real? The stones are real?" Clarke had to make sure she was hearing correctly.

"Oh, yes. They certainly are."

"So... that means the necklace was maybe a little, um..."

"Expensive? Yes, I expect it was quite expensive indeed," Vera confirmed with a nod.

Clarke's head was spinning. Bellamy had gotten her an expensive piece of real jewelry for Christmas. Something so unique that it had clearly been bought with her in mind. And he'd purchased it _months_ ago. In August. Not Christmas Eve at all.

But then... he hadn't given it to her! Instead, he'd substituted something much more generic. And then left abruptly, _angrily_ , offering no explanation.

Clarke sat heavily on the couch. She didn't understand any of it.

"I don't understand any of it," she said to no one in particular. "Nothing Bellamy did makes any sense. I have no idea what any of it means."

"Well, my dear," Vera said, sinking down beside her and patting her hand, "I don't ordinarily offer unsolicited advice, but don't you think that perhaps you should try to find out?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Clarke and Bellamy had always planned on making it to Raven's New Year's Eve party, and by the time the last day of the year rolled around, Clarke was desperately hoping that Bellamy had decided to follow through.

She'd been back from Arkville for three days now, and they had been a study in frustration.

It had taken her almost two days after Bellamy's departure just to decide to leave her mom's. Two days spent stewing about everything that had happened, wondering if she should really follow Vera's advice. Two days of excruciating indecision.

Clarke had been so certain her mother would be upset if she left ahead of schedule that when she finally made the decision to go she'd approached Abby with some trepidation. But Abby had shocked her, merely nodding and saying, "I think that's very wise."

So she'd rushed off to the airport with her mother's support, full of resolve, certain she could sort it all out as soon as she stepped off the plane. But that hadn't been what'd happened at all.

Instead, Bellamy had accepted none of Clarke's calls, and every voicemail and text had gone unanswered. By December 30th, she was so vexed that she'd seriously considered marching across the main courtyard and up two flights of stairs to pound on his door and demand that he speak with her. But somehow, she couldn't quite bring herself to do it.

Which was a testament to how truly screwed up things had gotten between them.

Clarke hadn't really wanted to involve their friends in all this, because it felt juvenile and just faintly ridiculous, but by the morning of the 31st, in desperation, she gave in and called Raven.

"You're back!" Raven said cheerfully. "You said you probably would be but I wasn't sure you'd actually make it. I'm gonna expect to see you tonight, so don't let me down."

"Yeah, I've been back a couple days now. But, I was, um, wondering if you'd heard anything from Bellamy."

Raven hooted. " _You're_ asking _me_ about Bellamy? I thought you two didn't take a piss without letting the other know."

Clarke's heart sank a little as she recalled how much she'd taken that casual closeness for granted.

"Well, the thing is, uh, something a little weird happened when we were staying at my mom's house..."

"Wait! I thought Bellamy was going to visit his sister for Christmas. How did he end up at your mom's?"

"Yeah, he was, but it turned out Octavia wasn't expecting him, and had flown out to the west coast with her husband. So..." Clarke tried for casual but was pretty certain she hadn't succeeded, "he came home with me."

Raven was silent for a moment before she asked quietly, "So what happened in Arkville, Clarke?"

"That's just it." She knew her frustration and bewilderment must be all too clear. "I'm not really sure. But he left the day after Christmas and told me he was taking a job in Chicago! I've been trying to get in touch with him ever since I got back three days ago, because we really need to talk. But he's not picking up my calls or texting me back..."

Her voice had begun to race as the hot panic rose inside her.

"Hey, hey, Clarke, slow down. I get it. Things got complicated in Arkville. So does all this at least mean that you finally pulled your head out of your ass?"

Clarke sighed. "Yeah, I suppose it does."

"Well, _thank fuck._ Give the girl a prize. Okay. What do you need from me?"

Clarke blew out a relieved breath. She _knew_ she'd be able to count on Raven.

"Can you make sure he shows up for your party?"

Raven groaned. "You know, Clarke, this kind of shit is usually _so_ not my thing, but for you I'll make an exception. When the new year rings in, Bellamy will either be at my place or he'll be dead."

Clarke laughed for the first time in days. "I definitely prefer option one."

After that call she felt marginally better. She was sure Raven would come through, and at the very least she'd have a chance to talk to Bellamy. Try to figure out why he'd suddenly seemed so... remote. Why the hell he was leaving town. Leaving _her_.

Besides, she admitted to herself with a resigned sigh, she'd missed him terribly and just seeing his face would give her a lift.

Clarke thought long and hard about what to wear that night. Usually, she opted to play down her sexy body, covering up her best asset with bulky sweaters or flowing blouses. Even on New Year's Eve.

But not this year. This year she was going for a new look. _Smokin' Hot._

She finally settled on dark skinny jeans that showed off the shapely legs she ordinarily kept hidden beneath suit pants and career dresses. She paired the jeans with a black, cold-shouldered sweater that was cut low enough in front to allow for an enticing amount of cleavage. It was the only thing like it in her wardrobe, an item Raven had convinced her to buy because _goddammit, Clarke, you need to own at least one thing that's_ not _suitable for work._

Her hair was left loose and wavy for a change, and silver hoops dangled from her ears. Small hoops, so they wouldn't do battle with the gem-encrusted pendant that hung from her neck and nestled comfortably between her breasts.

Clarke had begun to think of that pendant as a talisman, her lucky charm. Bellamy might have tossed it at her carelessly, like it was some kind of cheap trinket, but they both knew it was not. It was beautiful, and expensive, and perfect, and he'd thought about her Christmas gift months before the holiday. And dammit! All that had to _mean_ something.

She gave herself one last look in the mirror, fingering the silver chain. Determined that while he may have ignored her calls and texts, she was damn well going to make sure he couldn't possibly ignore the living, breathing Clarke.

She Ubered over to Raven's, by now well beyond the level of patience required to find a parking spot in Raven's crowded neighborhood.

"Wow! You look great!" Raven told her as soon as she walked in. "Any particular reason you went all out tonight?" she teased, smirking.

"Shut up," Clarke said mildly, unloading the bottles of wine she'd brought onto Raven's counter.

"Have I seen this before?" Raven asked, reaching out to finger the palette pendant. "It's really nice. These stones almost look... real."

"They are real. I think."

"You think?"

"I never had the chance to ask him because I never even opened it until after he'd left."

Raven gawked at her. "Wait. _Bellamy_ gave you this?"

Clarke nodded unhappily "Yeah. Right after he told me he was taking a job in Chicago."

Raven frowned. "Okay. Something is seriously screwed up here, Clarke."

"No shit."

Clarke thought Raven might have asked for details if she hadn't been so busy hosting a party. Instead, she gave Clarke an encouraging hug.

"You'll figure it out," Raven whispered before she was pulled away by arriving guests.

Clarke tried to focus on helping Raven, if only to give herself something to do, but every time the door opened she tensed up, listening for the one voice she really wanted to hear. But never did.

She'd nearly given up by the time Bellamy actually showed up, close on ten. She was in the kitchen when she heard his voice, that deep rumbling bass that she'd been listening to almost daily for five years now. The voice that suddenly had the power to intoxicate her without the aid of any alcohol.

Clarke took a deep breath and slipped through the doorway into the living room, her eyes finding his as though drawn by a magnet. He was dressed in the charcoal V-neck she'd given him last Christmas, and his hair had been disordered by the windy night.

She thought he looked beautiful.

As she made her way towards him, his eyes widened as he took in her appearance. She could swear she saw the exact moment he noticed what was dangling from her neck.

"You're wearing it," was his only greeting, and she couldn't understand why he looked so surprised.

"Of course I'm wearing it," she began, but her next words were lost amid a squeal from the small brunette who appeared suddenly and grabbed onto Bellamy's arm.

"Bellamy! You came after all! You have to come meet my friend Courtney. I've been telling her all about you."

Bellamy glanced down at the girl with a look that Clarke absolutely knew meant he couldn't quite remember her name.

He finally came up with it.

"Uh, hey, Kaitlyn. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh, so you've been thinking about me then," the girl flirted wildly, practically batting her eyelashes.

Clarke waited for Bellamy to give her the quiet brushoff, just like she'd seen him do to a hundred other pushy girls, but that wasn't what happened at all. Instead, he told her he'd love to meet Courtney.

Clarke almost choked when he gave her a quick nod and said, "See you Monday, Clarke. Glad you liked the necklace," before turning away with his new friend.

She stood there, unmoving.

Glad you like the necklace? _Glad you like the NECKLACE? What the fuck was that?_

Clarke felt an arm around her shoulder as Raven whispered in her ear.

"Pay no attention to her, Clarke. That's just Harper's idiot cousin who's visiting for the holidays. She met Bellamy when we all had drinks a couple nights ago and she was like a leech. He was so fucking annoyed."

"He doesn't look annoyed tonight," Clarke said, keeping her voice light as she watched them from across the room.

"Sure he does. Or he will in a minute. But this must be some serious shit between you two if he's willing to hide behind Kaitlyn." She turned Clarke around to face her. "What's it all about?"

"I wish I knew," Clarke said with a sigh.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before she saw Bellamy deftly extricate himself from Kaitlyn, and begin an aimless circuit of the room. Whenever she caught a glimpse of him, though, he seemed to disappear just before she could reach him.

Fuck! She refused to chase him around the room like some idiot groupie!

Clarke thought she'd finally found her chance when he slipped out onto Raven's balcony. But when he saw her open the slider to follow, he turned and walked back into the overcrowded room.

"I think you're going to need to cover up a little more if you're going outside," he smirked as he passed her, and then he was gone.

It was the smirk that did it. The thing that finally got her back up. How fucking _dare_ he smirk when she'd been dying inside for a week.

The time had come for the nuclear option.

Clarke stationed herself as close to the apartment door as possible, and when she saw Bellamy approach it, jacket in hand, at about a quarter to midnight, she grabbed his arm and said, "We have to have a talk."

"I'm leaving," he told her, shaking his arm free.

"Good. Me, too. You can give me a ride home."

"But... it's not midnight yet." He looked and sounded confused.

"No kidding. Are you going to refuse to give me a ride?"

"No, but ..."

"Great. I'll just hang onto these while I get my coat," she said, extracting his keys from the right jacket pocket where she knew he always kept them.

By the time she returned less than a minute later, Bellamy was standing in the hallway, fuming.

"Are you drunk or something?" he asked, irritated.

"Or something." She handed him the keys. "Let's go."

Clarke watched Bellamy's jaw clenching as they rode in silence through the chilly night, and knew he was probably angry. But she was determined that she wasn't giving up until she found out what the hell was going on.

He pulled into the parking lot closest to her condo, shifting into park but leaving the engine running.

"We're here," he said, without looking at her.

"I need you to walk me all the way to my place, Bellamy. It's cold and dark and I'm wearing these fucking heels. And besides, I've been drinking."

His head swiveled in surprise, then he sighed, turning off the car and opening his door. She lived on the ground floor, so it didn't take them long to reach her front door.

"Please come in," she said, determinedly holding the door open until he finally stepped over the threshold.

"Anything else you need from me tonight?" he growled.

"Yes, I need answers," she shot back, shrugging off her coat and reaching down to switch on a lamp. "Why don't you take off your jacket?"

Clarke flopped onto her couch, kicking off her heels, but Bellamy still hovered above her, arms folded across his chest, his face a mask.

"I'm not going to be here that long."

She reached out and tugged on his arm. "C'mon Bellamy. Please. This feels weird. At least sit down."

He glanced down at her, and suddenly his face took on a resigned look. When he slid off his jacket and lowered himself to the couch, Clarke sighed with relief.

"All right, Clarke, what is it? It's late and I'm tired."

Her mind whirled with possibilities. What should she ask about first? About quitting his job and taking a new one so far away? About his sudden departure from Arkville? Or his failure to take her calls or respond to her texts? But somehow she knew he'd have answers to all those, ones she wouldn't be able refute.

And besides, none of them was the key. Instinct told her what was.

"I want to know about this, Bellamy," she said finally, her fingers twisting on the chain around her neck. "Why would you buy something like this for me and then... almost... not give it to me?"

When his face closed up she was certain that wasn't what he'd been expecting at all.

He shrugged, his eyes flicking away. "I don't know. Maybe I wasn't sure you'd like it."

She snorted in disbelief.

"Bullshit! You buy me an expensive piece of jewelry four months before Christmas, one that you know I'll love because you know me better that anyone else on Earth, and then you give me something else instead? There's a reason you did that and I want to know what it is."

Even in the dim light she could see the discomfort on his face.

"How do you know all that?" he said, chagrined.

She shrugged. "It wasn't hard to figure out." She reached up and rubbed her thumb across the pendant. "Vera could tell these were real stones. And the jewelry store's been closed for months."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes closing briefly, and when he opened them whatever mask he'd been hiding behind had slipped completely.

"Christ, Clarke," he said, his voice tight, "do you really need to wring every last bit of dignity from me?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Look. I thought I could just... give it to you at the airport and you'd open it up and there'd be no one else around. But then, instead, we were at your mom's house... and your family was going to be there..."

"But... what difference did that make?"

"Because I knew your family would figure it out. What it meant."

As she stared at him her heart began to beat just a little faster "But it didn't have to mean anything, Bellamy. It's just a piece of jewelry."

He shook his head. "Of course it did. Even Echo could see that."

 _Echo?_ "What the hell does she have to do with it?"

"Yeah, well, the thing is... that necklace is kind of why we broke up."

"You broke up over... this?" He hand flew to her neck again.

His lips twisted in a rueful smile. "I think she must have seen the bag from the jewelry store when I got back from Arkville and thought I'd bought her something. Anyway, she went looking through my drawer and found... that... instead. And right away she knew it couldn't be for her. I mean, it's a paint palette and she teaches martial arts. She knew damn well it was meant for you."

Clarke couldn't believe it. _That's_ why they broke up?

"And she was so pissed," Bellamy sighed. "So then... I tried to explain."

"You explained? How did you explain?" Clarke was so desperate to hear his answer she could hardly get the words out.

His mouth twisted into a frown. "Stupidly. I told her that she might be my girlfriend but you were always going to be my best friend. See, I'd never questioned why I wanted to buy it for you. I saw it, I thought of you, I wanted you to have it. That's all. In my head it made perfect sense. Echo, well, she didn't agree."

"So at that point, when you bought it, you thought it was a perfectly okay gift for me?"

"Yeah. It was only later that I realized it was maybe... inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?"

"Yes," he said, his face slightly flushed, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "Not something you give to a friend, even a best friend. And I was sure you'd realize that..."

Clarke interrupted him as her heart began to thump wildly.

"So did you like _your_ Christmas gift, Bellamy? The pun book?"

He blinked at the abrupt change of subject.

"You know I did, Clarke. I loved it."

"And how long do you think it took me to find it? How much do you think I had to pay for it?"

She could see Bellamy's throat working as he swallowed. Almost unconsciously their heads began to bend toward one another.

"I figured... maybe... it might have been expensive. And hard to find. And for a little while, I even thought maybe your gift was... inappropriate... too. And then later, when we were watching the movie, I hoped..."

He reared back abruptly.

"But I knew how stupid I'd been when I heard what you said, Clarke."

"What I said?" _What the fuck was he talking about?_

"To your mother. You said that we... that you and I... we were partners, friends. That that was _all_ we were," he swallowed convulsively, "and all we ever would be. And I knew right then that I'd been wrong about how you saw me and that I had to get away from you before I went completely nuts."

He laughed ruefully. "But then I couldn't stand your not having the necklace so I gave it to you anyway. I'm... sorry if I somehow hurt your feelings... or confused you..."

"Bellamy, stop! You are such an idiot!"

His mouth clicked shut and his eyes widened at her sudden barked order, but honestly, she just wanted to shake him!

"Dammit, Bellamy, it was the scarf! I'd spent all that time and money on your Christmas gift, and you'd bought me a scarf on Christmas Eve! That's why I said that to my mother. She was asking about you... about us... but after you gave me that gift I just... I knew you'd never feel about me the way I felt about you..."

He drew in a ragged breath.

"So then... how do you feel about me?" he interrupted, grabbing onto her shoulders as if they were a lifeline. And looking at her like maybe her answer would be, too.

"I love you," she said, the words tumbling out of her like she couldn't hold them in one second longer. "I'm so in love with you, Bellamy, that I spent half of Christmas night just watching you sleep. I've tried so hard not to admit it to myself because you're my best friend, and because it would maybe cause problems at work..."

Bellamy gave a sudden bark of laughter, then he scooped her up and lifted her across him so she was straddling his lap.

"Clarke," he said softly, cupping her face in both his hands. "I love you so goddamn much, and I have for a long time. But I haven't been able to hide from it myself since I bought that necklace." He smiled at her softly. "And then you showed up at the party tonight looking like _that,_ andall I've been able to think about all night is how much I want to kiss you."

"Oh, god, Bellamy." Unable to hold back any longer, she bent her head to slide her lips softly across his.

As soon as their lips touched, Clarke felt like she was melting, and when the kiss deepened, when it got hot and wet and out of control, her body was suddenly on fire.

"Not on this couch," she said, pulling away, the words coming out on panting breaths. She scrambled off his lap, tugging at his hand and leading him through the darkness to her bedroom.

They tried to undress each other slowly, wanting to savor the moment, but then it became too hard to wait. By the time they were on the bed, naked, they were both frantic with need.

It seemed to Clarke like his hands and his mouth were everywhere at once, but still she wanted more. She wanted him caressing her neck, palming her breast, sucking strongly on a hardened nipple, rubbing at the wet heat that had gathered between her legs.

And then he was inside her, and she found she had to stop thinking altogether. That she was only capable of feeling. And the feeling was... exquisite.

Hours later, as they lay gazing at each other, still scarcely believing that this had actually happened, they finally remembered what day it was and wished each other a sleepy "Happy New Year."

"So about that new job," she said, yawning, as he gathered her in his arms.

Bellamy laughed quietly, rubbing his cheek along the soft pale skin of her shoulder. "Somehow I don't think I'll be moving to Chicago after all."

XXXXXXXXXX

The _C'est_ _toi_ presentation went even better than they'd expected. The client was ecstatic and Jaha was more than pleased.

Clarke didn't after all wear the blue dress and the hand-painted scarf, opting instead for a red dress with a scooped neckline that while office-appropriate was still low enough to show off her pendant.

The client, a woman of discerning taste, commented on it just as she was leaving.

"That's beautiful," she said. "I've never seen anything like it. And how appropriate for such a talented artist."

Clarke smiled. "Thank you. It was a Christmas gift from my boyfriend. Bellamy," she added after a short hesitation, turning to smile at him.

The woman grinned. "Aha! I knew I was right about you two. No wonder you work so well together."

After she left, they turned to face a surprised Jaha.

"You can accept this, Thelonious," Clarke began, linking her fingers with Bellamy

"Or we'll both be leaving," Bellamy finished.

As far as they were concerned, that wasn't a threat. It was simply reality. In the contest between their jobs and their relationship, well, there _was_ no contest.

Jaha smiled ruefully. "Well, I always knew you two were good together. I suppose I just didn't realize _how_ good. So this is a little... unexpected. But I guess I can live with it."

"Good," Clarke said, as Bellamy pulled her tightly against him. "And it was unexpected for us, too. But it wasn't at all unwelcome."

When he saw how well Clarke and Bellamy were able to mesh their private and professional lives, Jaha had a change of attitude about inter-office romances. And by the following Christmas, when Bellamy presented Clarke with yet another beautiful piece of jewelry - this one destined for her finger - he found he had to make a further adjustment to his outdated notions on employee fraternization.

Of course by that time, it was all _entirely_ expected.


End file.
